


realm of heroes

by suganii (feints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Missing Scene, Senpai-Kouhai Relationship, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feints/pseuds/suganii
Summary: Numai notices a first-year wing spiker practicing his serves one night. Being the charitable ace of Nohebi that he is, he decides to help him out.
Relationships: Numai Kazuma & Kuguri Naoyasu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: HQ Minor Teams Fanweek 2020





	realm of heroes

**Author's Note:**

> For HQ Minor Teams Week, Day 6: Nohebi / Tomorrows / Inspire.
> 
> I just wanted Numai and Kuguri fluff. This turned out to be something a little different... but fun nonetheless! At least, I hope!

“You’re really good at that,” Numai remarks.

The new wing spiker’s head perks up. He turns his head leisurely to give him a small nod of acknowledgement, but even from this distance, Numai can see that he’s pleased.

It’s all in the eyes. Numai pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against, observing with arms crossed as the first-year—Kuguri, if he remembers correctly—serves volleyballs across the net. Even if his serves don’t have as much power behind them as Numai’s, they’re precise. He hits them in the direction he wants every time.

Numai could afford a little of that, himself. He has a quick word with the Coach for the gym keys before he jogs over, waving a greeting.

“Mind if I practice with you?” he asks, picking up a stray ball and slotting it under his arm.

“It’s free practice,” Kuguri replies.

Straightforward to a fault. Yeah, Numai kinda really likes this kid.

“Say, what’s on your mind when you pick up a ball to serve?” he asks as he lines himself up beside the other boy, readying himself to jump. He cringes as soon as the question leaves his mouth. Now this first-year’s going to think his senpai’s an utter noob with shit for brains.

But Kuguri just says, “I hit where it feels good. Wherever I think can score us a point, I guess, I just aim in that direction.”

Huh. Numai is chuckling before he can stop himself. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It just sounds so… simple. That’s really all you’re thinking about?”

“It is.”

 _Huh_. You know, Numai thinks that if Kuguri opened up a little more, he and Hiroo would get along very well. But Kuguri tends to be very quiet, and he keeps to himself. The team only knows he exists because of the way he plays when he’s on the court. He just… comes alive. There’s no better term for it. Like feeling the ball in his hands is sparking oxygen into his very soul, and he becomes more than a man, he becomes a _beast_.

At least, he’s on his way to _becoming_ one. Coach doesn’t necessarily see it the same way he does, but Numai’s observed the kid for a few months now. He’s a slow fucking starter, unfortunately, but once he gets in his groove, his plays are almost perfect. Experience is all he needs.

“What about you, Numai-san?”

“Hmm?”

Numai blinks himself back into the present to find Kuguri facing him, spinning a ball in his hands. “What do you think about? When you serve?”

“M-me? Well, I, uh.” Numai scratches his head sheepishly. “I honestly don’t really think much beyond how much power and speed I want to serve the ball with. The more _oomph_ , the less time they have to react, you know? And if it goes hard, like _whabam,_ it doesn’t matter if they pick it up, it’ll probably end up a chance ball for us anyway.”

 _Ugh_. Numai’s talking skills are on point today, they really are. 10/10. He’s just glad Daishou, Hiroo and Sakijima aren’t around for this. They’d roast him alive.

But Kuguri surprises him again. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me. Please, Numai-san,” Kuguri says, and _oh,_ that’s the intensity back in his eyes again. Like he’s dissecting Numai down to flesh and bone, examining what makes him tick.

It’s a good thing Numai never could turn a challenge down.

He grins. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He takes five steps from the end line. Turns. Kuguri is watching him, his sharp eyes missing nothing. _Can-do kid, huh? Watch this._

Numai bumps the ball up nice and high, no spins or tricks, no fancy shmancy serving routine needed, just his jump and the way the ball feels spiked by his hand, hurling towards the other side of the court with sheer velocity. He’s been practicing this serve for so long that the trajectory— _as close to the side line as possible; if that spot seems guarded, anywhere where the end line seems open_ —feels like instinct more than thought. This time, the ball just lands a touch shy in-bounds, bouncing _right_ at the intersection between the side and end lines. A fucking perfect no-touch service ace.

“Woohoo, that’s what I’m talking about, baby! Whoo!”

Numai drops a knee in celebration, pointing finger guns at Kuguri just because. Any ounce of embarrassment he may have had is erased when only seconds later, Kuguri awkwardly points finger guns right back.

“Very impressive, Numai-san. As expected of the ace.”

Numai absolutely _preens_. Forget whatever kouhai Daishou was excited about last week; he’s got the best one standing right here.

“I’m amazing, aren’t I?” he agrees, chortling loudly.

“Your power is second to none.”

“You got that right. Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he says excitedly, a thought striking him. “How about you try doing a jump serve?”

Kuguri goes wide-eyed for the first time all evening. It’s a good look on him; Numai could definitely get used to that. “Right now?” he asks in confirmation.

“Why not? You’ve got a good teacher,” Numai gestures to himself with a smirk, brimming with confidence. This is where he shines, Kuguri admitted it himself.

But Kuguri looks him up and down, an eyebrow raised. “You’ll do.”

Why, the little _shit_. Numai shakes his head, amused, and takes a step back, placing a hand on his hips. “Alright then, _wise guy_ , let’s see what you can do.”

Kuguri picks up a ball from the ground, counts five steps from the end line. Turns. He tosses the ball up—a little too high and too forward, Numai sees the outcome a second before Kuguri jumps—and misses the ball completely, catching the ball on his head instead.

Numai bursts out into laughter, a hand clutching his stomach as he throws his head back. “You should… teeheehee… see the look on your face!”

Kuguri’s pout just sets him off again. It takes him a few seconds to regain his bearings, and he has to heave to catch his breath.

“That was not very funny, Numai-san,” Kuguri just huffs, looking so much like that one time his cousin’s cat fell into a pool of water and had to crawl back out that it’s all Numai can do not to descend into laughter again.

“It was,” he says when he’s finally got himself under control. “Just a little.”

“I think I’d rather save practicing a jump serve for when I have better control,” Kuguri tells him straight-facedly, and it’s enough to shame Numai into full sobriety.

“Aw, don’t say that! Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh, it was just. Your _face_. But I promise I’m not going to laugh again,” Numai adds hurriedly when the frown on Kuguri’s face deepens, “let’s just. Start over, alright?”

After a very pronounced pause that makes Numai squirm and feel extremely apologetic, Kuguri nods. “Fine,” he says curtly. “But no more laughing?”

“None,” Numai agrees. “So, um, do you know where you went wrong?”

“The ball. Too far front, and I threw it too high.”

_Wow. No hesitation, too._

Numai blinks, his mouth hanging open slightly. Did the kid really just… deduce his weakness in one go? To think he’s been observing himself _that_ closely.

All of a sudden, Numai remembers just how seriously Kuguri takes volleyball. There’s no doubt in his mind now, Kuguri will be a devastating monster in his own right. Just… hopefully when Numai’s long gone.

“Numai-san?”

He nods.

“Yup, you’re exactly right,” Numai says, going on to explain the typical toss most players take when they’re up to serve. The length of the run up, the body positioning. “At the end of the day, it all comes down to practice. You really want to get your body used to the motion so that you can execute it consistently all the time. Just hitting the ball is the first step.”

He picks up a ball from the cart, twirling it briefly in his hands before passing it to Kuguri, who catches it without much ado. “Try again,” he instructs.

This time, Kuguri takes a little more time to centre himself. When he tosses the ball, it’s at a much better height, although he fails to sync up his jump by a second so the ball ends up barely traveling the length to the net.

It’s still much better than his first attempt had been.

Numai’s heart skips a beat. _Probably just a fluke_ , he reasons.

But as he passes one ball after the other toward his kouhai, Kuguri only improves. In the speed of his jump, the height of his throws. Nearly every ball he tosses is one he’s making contact with now, though getting it over the net is still another matter entirely. Kuguri’s far too focused on technique, so much so that he’s neglecting the power needed to actually _get_ the ball onto the opponent’s side of the court where it matters.

Even then, it’s… frightening. He’s getting used to the motions, figuring out where to make adjustments, and all without batting an eyelash. Numai’s without a doubt one of the best servers on the team, and even _he’s_ kinda scared shitless by Kuguri’s progress. At this rate, he might be able to master the jump serve by the time they play at Spring Nationals.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he says, after Kuguri finally manages to get a ball to hit deep in the imaginary opponent’s centre court.

If he’d applied more strength and speed to it, it might’ve been a service ace. Numai supresses a shiver at the thought. It’s one thing to know your kouhai’s talented, another to see it play out right in front of your eyes.

The ball cart has been long emptied. Numai needs only to look up at the window to trace the pale outline of the moon. It’s perfectly reasonable—no, in fact it’s his _duty_ as a senpai—to make sure his kouhai isn’t overworking himself and send him home. Numai knows all of that, but somehow it still feels like an excuse.

As he helps Kuguri to keep the net, to roll the balls back into the cart, he finds himself deep in contemplation. Just _what_ exactly had he seen today? Maybe, he thinks, he’s caught ia glimpse of where the monsters dwell. For people like Sakusa and Komori, and Bokuto, volleyball comes easy as breathing to them. More than that, they come _alive_ for volleyball.

Much like the person Numai has, standing right next to him.

“Thank you for today, Numai-san,” Kuguri bows, a little more deeply than he really needs to. All the volleyball equipment’s been kept by now, and Numai knows that Daishou and the others have probably all long headed home. If he knows anything, they’ll probably heckle him tomorrow for showering so much attention on the baby spiker, if they aren’t doing it already on LINE. It’s too bad Numai’s phone died a few hours ago.

Or maybe not. Numai thinks he might need a little time to process what he’s seen today for himself.

“Eh, anytime,” Numai waves him off with a half-hearted grin. But if Kuguri notes at all that Numai seems a little off, he doesn’t say a word.

He waits with Kuguri by the school gate until his parents come to pick him up— _chauffeur_ , _huh_ , Numai notes with mingled envy and awe—waiting in awkward silence. As much as Numai tries, the words all dry up in his throat and won’t come out. And so he doesn’t.

When the car finally pulls up, it’s almost a relief. Just before Kuguri gets into the car though, he fixes Numai with a firm stare. “Numai-san, I really enjoyed today. Let’s continue working hard. Good night.”

Numai finds himself mumbling a good night and waving like an idiot until the car turns the corner, and he’s left with his churning thoughts.

 _A first-year, huh?_ Numai thinks with a sigh, sparing a long glance upwards before beginning the long walk to the nearest train station.

It sure seems like it’s going to be a long, terrifying two-and-a-half years…

* * *

The next day passes, and another, and another, but Numai doesn’t join Kuguri for extra practice after that.

He knows he probably should. It’s _weird_ that he showers the boy with so much attention one day and gives him the cold shoulder the next. But he just… he doesn’t think it’s wrong to ask for more time to deal. It’s not as though his world revolves around the first-year anyway.

He’s not so insecure in his position to ever think that Kuguri would replace him on the court, but he’s also not sure what approach is right for him to take. Should he continue practicing with the kid?

It’s not like he made any promises to begin with. He hopes Kuguri didn’t take it that way.

Maybe it’s better to let things return to the status quo. Practice like usual, talk shit with Daishou and the others, occasionally pay attention to the first-years.

And that’s when Kuguri surprises him again, coming up to him during a passing drill and asking for permission to be his partner. Akama gives him a thumb’s up as he jogs toward Sakijima’s direction. He must’ve planned this somehow, the sneaky bastard.

“Numai-san, are you angry with me?”

“W-what?”

Numai accidentally bumps the ball back a bit too hard, causing Kuguri to shuffle backwards from the blow. Even then, Numai observes good feet placement, good arms. Numai passes the ball with a little more ferocity just to see it again.

“So you are angry with me, then.”

It’s not a question. Numai shakes his head, passing the ball with an overhand sheepishly. “Sorry, that was just a—Hey!”

He sees it in his mind’s eye just before it happens, shuffling forward into a crouch to receive the tip Kuguri sends over.

Kuguri just gives him the most nonplussed look he can manage. “I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong,” he just says.

He tosses the ball back, and Numai, frowning, passes it back to him. “Listen, you—”

“I didn’t mean just now,” Kuguri interrupts.

“I know! I was going to agree with you, you little shit.”

He catches the ball with his fingers and brings the ball down to his chest, lips still firmly pointed downwards. “I was going to say I was sorry,” he admits.

There’s the slightest wobble of Kuguri’s lips. He ducks his gaze as if ashamed. “So, what’s with all the glaring then? You’ve been watching me like a hawk since we did practice together.”

Numai jolts. Oh fuck, so Kuguri had seen that? He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it until Akama came up to him the day before and asked him if Kuguri had upset him somehow. He can’t help it, though. It’s just his resting face.

“I didn’t mean to stare so much,” he admits apologetically. “I just never realised how good you were at volleyball.”

When Kuguri finally looks up, Numai sees the way he’s clenching his lips tightly. Sees how his eyes won’t hold Numai’s gaze, skittering away. Kuguri isn’t ashamed. He’s hurt.

Numai’s really fucked up.

“Here, come on,” he says, leading Kuguri out of the gym. Looks like this is a conversation they need to be having, immediately.

He waves a hand at Daishou as he goes, taking Kuguri a few paces away from the gym to a quiet spot near a usually unused classroom. He sighs, running a hand through his honey gold locks as he does. “Look, man, I’m sorry—”

“If it’s something I did—” Kuguri begins at the same time.

They stop. Kuguri glances at him uncertainly. Numai decides this whole conversation needs a do-over.

“Kuguri,” he asks, resisting the urge to place a hand on the other boy’s shoulder in case he’s refused, “why do you play volleyball?”

Kuguri blinks, nailing Numai with another dead-eyed stare. “Why?” he repeats slowly, as if he’s unsure whether he heard it right.

“Yes, why. Just. Answer me this first.”

“Because it makes me happy,” Kuguri says simply.

“…Yeah?” Numai asks.

“Yeah. My cousins always say I can get too in my head. Volleyball is simpler than that. I play because I like it. Does there… need to be another reason?”

Numai’s smile just grows. “Nope, not at all.”

He laughs, and finally takes a step forward, ruffling Kuguri’s hair enthusiastically. Kuguri wrinkles his nose. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine,” he says, feeling like a weight’s been lifted off his chest.

“If you say so.”

“And about the staring… again, I’m sorry, dude. You’re, like, a beast on the court, you know that, right?”

“I was under the impression that _that_ was a desirable quality.”

“It is!” Numai says quickly, observing the shadows start to grow on Kuguri’s face. “It can also be a humbling thing sometimes.”

“So you’re saying seeing me play keeps you humble?”

Numai shakes his head, amazed at Kuguri’s cheek. Yeah, he thinks he and Kuguri could get along after all.

“Dream on, first-year! As if you could ever beat me.”

Not yet, Numai thinks. Kuguri’s got luck and physique on his side, where everything Numai’s achieved has been a slow upward climb. It makes him a little mad, to be honest.

But this too, is good. Kuguri’s _Numai_ ’s kouhai. And that just means Numai will have to take care of him, for however long that is.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points if you can find one HQ quote I snuck into the fic haha. I'm very proud of myself for that. Hope you had fun reading this. If you did, spare a kudos, and maybe a comment down below!


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